


Some Mysteries

by WerewolvesAreReal



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Book 1: His Majesty's Dragon, Crack, Gen, Ties & Cravats, Tumblr Prompt, neckcloths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 16:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17307788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewolvesAreReal/pseuds/WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: Chenery and Sutton request Granby's aid for a very serious matter





	Some Mysteries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Borrowed_Voices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borrowed_Voices/gifts).



“Laurence is wearing a neckcloth,” says Captain Chenery.

Granby looks up from his conversation with Little. Captain Sutton wears an equally baffled expression; Berkley seems amused. “Yes,” says Granby, confused by this non-sequitur. “He always wears a neckcloth.”

“But  _how_ is he wearing a neckcloth,” wonders Sutton.

Berkley starts laughing. Next to him Harcourt covers her mouth with her hand.

Granby squints suspiciously and turns to Little. “…Did these two get knocked over the head?”

Except he finds Little craning his neck around to look at the front of the room. Laurence has taken a solitary seat near the front of the officer’s mess, eating with that rapid yet somehow elegant speed he acquired in the navy. “Why, and it looks very neat,” says Little in tones of surprise. “ - It looks ironed.”

Granby is exasperated. “Laurence is always neat – you have all mentioned it more than once,” he reminds the group. Laurence’s obsession with order and tidiness has infected his whole crew – Granby himself is the only officer at this table wearing  _his_ neckcloth – and while the man’s strictness can be amusing, it hardly seems worthy of note after months in the service.

Then Chenery brings up a small drawstring bag from under the table. He turns the bag toward Granby and pulls it open.

It’s full of neckcloths.

“We stole them,” Chenery explains while Granby gawks. “ _Eight_ of them in his case, if you can credit it. So surely we cannot have missed one.”

“Any man who has eight neckcloths,” says Berkley, “could just as easily have nine, I think.”

“ _Why did you steal them,_ ” is what Granby wants to know.

Chenery shrugs unhelpfully.

The bag disappears under the table. Granby feels vaguely like he become an unwitting part of the most stupid conspiracy in history.

“I suppose we shall have to find the rest,” says Sutton.

“Perhaps he keeps some with Temeraire’s harness,” Harcourt muses. “In case it is lost in flight?”

Granby tells them in no uncertain terms that he will not be part of this idiocy; they laugh at him.

As though  _Granby_ is the unreasonable one, here.

* * *

 

Two days later finds Granby looking at Chenery and Sutton, resigned, over a forgotten hand of piquet. The two have dropped their cards in favor of staring at Laurence as he walks past.

Granby contemplates asking for details, which he would probably regret. He is spared the necessity when Sutton despairs, “Where does he  _find_ them?”

“I am not sure he even noticed,” Chenery says. And then he draws out the bag from the other day, which he is evidently still carrying around, and allows Granby to look inside.

It is stuffed to the brim with neckcloths.

Granby stares. “We have searched his quarters the past four nights,” Sutton sighs. The older captain has always been a bit more serious than Chenery and relays this news with a grave expression. He adds, “Roland has been distracting him,” because apparently they have brought in more people to this strange plot.

“ _Why_ is Roland helping you steal his neckcloths?”

“Oh, it was just meant to be a joke,” Chenery says. “He is always so stiff, we thought it would be a little fun to see him looking less than perfect, and probably embarrassed by it – but now - “

“Now,” says Sutton with the determined expression of a man on a mission, “Now it is a journey for knowledge, John. You must understand that I will never be able to rest if I cannot determine how he procures these neckcloths.”

“You are both lunatics,” Granby informs them, these upstanding veterans of the Aerial Corps who apparently have no better use of their time than to steal a colleague’s uniform like mischievous boys.

Sutton looks at him seriously. “Will you help us?”

Granby glares. "...Yes,” he grits out.

Because, dammit, he’s curious too.

* * *

 

The thefts continue for another week. Granby distracts Laurence when the captain evidently starts to grow uneasy with Roland’s sudden persistence – probably the poor gentleman is imagining wedding-bells – and with his help Chenery and Sutton liberate no less than nineteen  _additional_ neckcloths.

Chenery is forced to stash the bag in his quarters, because it overflows.

They are no closer to determining how Laurence acquires them.

“I am not going to help you stalk Laurence,” Berkley snorts when Granby relays the whole, ridiculous story. They are standing in Maximus’ clearing, which Granby hopes he will not regret; the Regal Copper seems very interested in his story and dragons are notorious gossips. “But I will say that his quarters are next to mine, and he usually stays there or with Temeraire after patrols. So I cannot say where he gets them either.”

Maximus tilts his head. “Where does  _cloth_ come from?” he asks thoughtfully.

So somehow the conversation devolves into an explanation of agriculture and the textile industry. Berkley is unsuccessfully trying to explain the concept of a  _loom_ when Laurence joins them himself.

“Do you own any sheep?” asks the Regal Copper, lowering his head as though Laurence might be hiding one behind his back.

“…I do not,” says Laurence after a confused pause.

This answer disappoints Maximus. The dragon grumbles and rests his head against the ground, evidently ready to take a nap.

“We were talking about uniforms,” says Granby, because it is not  _entirely_ untrue. Berkley glances at him with amusement. “And their origins, I suppose.”

“And speaking of uniforms,” adds Berkley, “I notice you have finally stopped reprimanding the cadets about their dress.”

Laurence frowns. “I hope I do not overstep,” he says. “But many of the runners are not yet assigned to crews, and someone ought to remind them - “

“I am not criticizing,” Berkley explains. “I only mean I have noticed. Do you think it unimportant, now, if they dress poorly?”

“Why, of course the way we present ourselves is always important,” says Laurence. He sounds shockingly earnest. “We represent the Corps, and must act according. But I confess that it seems very easy to misplace things here on land. I cannot say why it is, but I thought I ought to be more lenient about the mode of dress.” To Granby:  “I hope the crew does not have complaints?”

“…Oh,” Granby manages. Laurence evidently notes something strange in his tone, because the captain pauses. “It is… well…”

In the end, he is a coward.

“…Of course we are happy to make every effort, so that we might represent Temeraire well.”

Laurence beams at him. That smile ought to be illegal. “Very good,” he says. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have promised to read to Temeraire.”

Laurence inclines his head and leaves.

Granby turns toward Berkley. His face has grown red with the effort of stifling his amusement. “…I suppose we should stop,” says Granby reluctantly.

“Yes,” says Berkley. “Or, you might try stealing his coats next. If he manages to replace those half as swift, I suppose we could clothe the whole country within a few weeks.”

* * *

 

Chenery and Sutton are demoralized by Granby’s sudden moral pangs. But at last they agree to stop stealing the neckcloths, and they seal this promise by taking their pilfered garments to Laurence’s quarters and dumping them all at the foot of his bed.

As an afterthought, Sutton stuffs them under the mattress. “So he will think he lost them,” the man rationalizes to Granby’s judgmental stare. As though a man who folds his socks would lose anything under the mattress.

That night they sit together in Messoria’s clearing and pass around a bottle of wine.

Chenery holds his head in his hands, draped dramatically against the dragon’s side. “But I need to know,” he says. “How does he do it? How does he replace them so fast, and how are they so perfect - “

Sutton pats his shoulder with a solemn mien. “I am afraid that there are some mysteries in the universe,” he tells Chenery, “That must go unknown for the good of all men. For we have not yet attained the wisdom to understand these things.”

“God,” says Granby. “ - You are both fools, and I am going to bed.”


End file.
